


To Reach a Star

by TwinTwain



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Character Development, Enough Ships Teased to Please Almost Everyone, Multi, No character bashing, Prophecies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinTwain/pseuds/TwinTwain
Summary: Star Butterfly is gone, but not forgotten. She has a best friend who refuses to let her fight alone, a rival in love who refuses to be an obstacle, and a fellow troublemaker who refuses to miss out on all the fun. Meanwhile the Rebel Princess herself has to do some things she's never done before: come to terms with her own emotions, learn to navigate the murky waters of politics, and delve into the secret and troubled past of the Butterfly family.





	1. To Lose a Star

Marco wasn't sure how long he had been standing here, spellbound by the silence. The stillness. Concepts that had become completely foreign ever since a bubbly blonde princess exploded into his dull life with all of the colors and power of a Radical Rainbow Blast.

Peace and quiet had never felt so utterly _wrong_.

“Marco? Son?” Came the voice of his father, suddenly appearing in the doorway to her—the room. He glanced around at the bland, original setup before turning his attention back to Marco, hesitating for a moment. It was clear that his father was at a complete loss for words.

“I tried to use the dimensional scissors.” He said flatly, raising the hand holding them and shaking it briefly. “They won't work. No matter how many times I try.”

His dad frowned. “...I see.” There was no way he really did—despite his parents' interest in the many magical things that Star introduced them to, they never really cared to know how they actually worked. Not that Star could have adequately explained it to them anyway. Any attempted explanation would have been lost in a whirlwind of random hand motions and onomatopoeias.

He walked over to the bed and sat down, elbows on his knees and hands cradling the sides of his head. “She's...she's really gone. I can't use the scissors to find her, Kelly and Pony Head up and disappeared so I have no way to even try and contact her...what should I do?” He looked up, pleading.

“You'll... _we'll_ find a way, Marco.” His dad said, coming to sit on the bed beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Star Butterfly is as much a Diaz as any of us. No child of mine can get away with leaving without giving me two things: a proper good-bye hug, and a contact number.”

A sniffling came from the door. The two of them looked up to see his mother, clearly on the verge of tears. Without preamble she rushed into the room and swept him up in a hug, crushing him against her with a strength he didn't know she had. A second and larger pair of arms then encircled them both.

In any normal situation, this would have embarrassed him completely. But right now, in this moment, he had never been so glad to have these two as his parents. Here in their arms he felt all of five again, running to the safety of their embrace whenever the world felt so unfair and scary. His tears, suspiciously absent thus far, spilled down his cheeks in a steady flow. He felt no shame: his parents were crying just as much, if not more.

Together, the three shared in their sorrows late into the night.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It was almost two o'clock in the morning when he and his parents finally split to sleep in their respective rooms. His mother had actually asked if he wanted to sleep with them tonight, but he had refused: with the gradual dulling of his immediate sadness, the teenage instinct to angst in private was quickly resurfacing. He was only lying in his bed for forty minutes when an almost undetectable sound reached his ears. It was high pitched and seemed to go on for a minute or two before stopping for a couple seconds, only to start up again. He realized with a jolt of hope that it was coming from the room he and his parents had been crying in just an hour ago.

Trying to keep quiet, he tiptoed as quickly as he could down the hall and swung the door open.

“Star?!” He whispered into the pitch black darkness, running a hand against the wall until he found the light switch.

His heart, thumping hard in his chest, squeezed painfully as the darkness was banished by the light. There on the bed eight puppies stared up at him, whining pitifully.

With a sigh he turned off the lights and carefully made his way toward the bed. The puppies jumped off as he got under the covers, only to jump back up as soon as he'd settled in. Within moments he was almost completely covered by them, and although he could feel their tails wagging they still let out soft whines every once in a while.

“I know.” He said to the darkness. “I miss her too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: we get into the story proper, Jackie and Janna enter the picture, and we see the fallout of Toffee's attack.


	2. Gaining Perspective

Whenever Jackie Lynn Thomas _really_ needed to clear her mind, she went straight to her skateboard.

Not any of the freebies that her Uncle gifted her every so often, but her _personal_ board—the first she'd ever received. There was always a risk involved in using it; no board lasted forever, and she'd almost had this one for ten years. On a good year she was able to leave it under her bed undisturbed. On a bad, she might be forced to pull it out two or three times. The worst had been the year when the local skate park had been in danger of closing, coupled with a friend moving away...among other things. She'd ridden it for five straight days, only putting it away reluctantly once a particularly bad fall had taken a chip out of the deck.

This year, she'd broken that record. Seven days of near constant use and counting.

“Going out again?” A voice called out as Jackie pulled open the front door. Her mother had evidently decided to take a break from circling jobs in the employment section of the newspaper to glance up at her from their small and cluttered dining room table.

“Yes.” She replied curtly. _Do it_. She thought. _Ask where I'm going._

“...Okay. Dinner is at six. Leftovers will be in the fridge if you're not back by then.” Her mother said offhandedly, attention returning to the newspaper.

Without bothering to acknowledge the statement she stepped outside and closed the door behind her, ignoring the impulse to slam it shut. If she did, there was a good chance it'd fall right off the hinges.

In seconds she was speeding down the street, leaving everything behind. Thoughts flew by and out of sight just as quickly as the rest of the scenery, and soon she was feeling back to normal as the tension in her head was replaced by relaxing calm. That was one of the things she loved most about skateboarding: no matter what hardships she was going through, she could always be granted a brief reprieve from thinking about them while on a board. It was an activity that demanded all of one's attention. After all, even the briefest lapse in focus could end in a scrape, or a bruise, or even a fracture if you were particularly unlucky. But you had to leave those thoughts behind too, or else the fear of it happening would make you hesitate, and hesitating at a crucial moment was just as dangerous as being overconfident. It was a lesson that every skater had to learn. And the only way to learn it was to keep getting back up every time you fell.

Like Marco.

A heartbeat later she found herself on a collision course with the ground. Momentarily more concerned with imminent pain than teenage drama, her reflexes bypassed her brain and allowed her to break her fall with a perfectly executed roll. Once she was stationary and lying on her back, she ran a hand through her hair and sighed as she stared up into the sky.

This was why she was using her personal board so much, and why she'd fallen more in the past week than she had in years. Skateboarding reminded her of Marco. It was becoming impossible to focus on one without thinking of the other. And of course thinking about Marco inevitably led her to think about the person she was most trying _not_ to think about.

How was she supposed to clear her head when the usual method of doing that reminded her of why she _needed_ to?

She maneuvered herself into a sitting position, spotting her board a couple feet away looking no worse for wear. She'd been lucky so far, but she was playing a dangerous game. With no end to her troubles in sight and no other ideas of what to do about it, it was only a matter of time until she destroyed her board. It was a reality she would need to face _someday_ , but she wasn't ready for it to be now.

Rising to her feet, she idly noticed a stinging in her right ankle. Rolling her sock down revealed several scars—a relic of the time she'd crashed into a metal trashcan early in her training—as well as a small cut, no doubt a consequence of her fall. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a band-aid.

_Don't worry Jackie! I always carry disinfectant!_

_*Gasp*_ _You mean that stingy stuff you put on the cut I got while fighting that monster last week? Marco, Marco, Marco...she doesn't need that painful junk. I'll just use magic! Mega Cleaning Glitter Stream!_

With a shake of her head to clear the imaginary phantoms, she ripped open the plastic covering and applied the bandage with practiced ease. Once that was done she re-positioned her sock and grabbed her skateboard, tucking it under her left arm. Obviously her old method was getting her nowhere.

 _So what now?_ It seemed like that was all she had nowadays...questions without answers.

She caught her other hand gravitating toward her right pocket, and punished it by clenching it into a fist until her fingernails dug into the skin of her palm. There was no reason to check it—she already knew what she'd see.

**New Messages (0)**

She'd already spent more than enough time staring at her and Marco's text chain, hoping for some kind of communication. The last one—a message sent eight days ago telling her that he looked forward to seeing her at his party, along with a picture of a cartoon egg looking through a pair of binoculars appropriately titled “get egg-sighted”—probably had a view-count somewhere in the hundreds by now. There had been complete radio silence on his end ever since, and for some reason she couldn't bring herself to reach out first.

Actually, that was a lie. She knew the reason. At the beginning she had been scared, because silence was better than an answer to a question she didn't want to ask. But as more and more time passed, her unease over Marco's complete lack of contact began to overshadow her fear. The problem was, while the long stretch of silence had given her the space she needed to get ready for some type of resolution, it was now an obstacle. A divide that she couldn't bridge. It had been a long time since she'd felt like there was a problem she couldn't solve herself, but that's exactly what this was.

It was time to try something new.

Following a hunch, she made her way toward Echo Creek Academy. Technically no one besides the janitors were supposed to be there during the Summer.

Which meant it was exactly where the person she was looking for was most likely to be.

She walked up to the front door of the school and, finding it unlocked, went inside after carefully stashing her skateboard behind a large bush. An older man with a bulbous belly and thinning straw colored hair turned and addressed her, mop in hand.

“Nobody's supposed to be in here today. Floor's being cleaned.”

She opened her mouth to reply but was beat to it by a familiar voice coming from the room two doors down to the left.

“It's fine Bobby. She's with me.”

The man shrugged and turned away from her, resuming his mopping. She came to stand just behind him, unsure what to do. The only way to the room was through the part he'd all ready cleaned.

“Go on.” He said simply with a shooing of his hand.

“Sorry.” She apologized softly as she walked past him, careful of her footing on the slick surface. She'd wiped her feet on the floor mat on the way in, but there was no doubt she still had some dirt on the bottom of her shoes.

She came to a stop outside of the door, reading the placard on the wall above it.

_Chemistry Room_

Janna. In a chemistry room. With things that could potentially combine to explode.

Maybe the old method deserved one more shot...

“I can smell your fear from in here.” A pause. “A wise reaction.”

Jackie stifled her apprehension and walked inside to find Janna doing...nothing. Not rifling through cabinets, not doubled over a boiling cauldron and cackling madly, not even filling the whiteboard with inappropriate drawings. Instead, she was leaning back in the teacher's chair: feet up on a desk and arms behind her head.

“Hey.” Janna said, briefly glancing her way before returning her gaze to the ceiling.

“How did you know it was me?” She asked.

Eyes closing lazily, Janna motioned to a phone resting precariously close to the edge of the desk. “I'm tapped into the security cameras. Nobody comes or goes without me knowing.”

She raised a brow, which was completely lost on the other girl. “That's impressive.”

Janna shrugged. “Not really. The security system here is a joke.” Her tone was completely deadpan, lacking the usual playfulness and mischievous hubris that would have usually accompanied such a statement.

Not knowing how to respond in the face of such overwhelming apathy, Jackie said nothing. As the seconds stretched on and Janna seemed content to ignore her existence, she grew concerned. This wasn't like Janna. She could be reticent at times—so could Jackie herself, if she were being honest—but never purposely standoffish.

She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear—a nervous habit she'd never managed to completely break—and bit her lip, hesitating. She'd come to ask for Janna's help, but...“Janna, is everything...okay?”

A chink appeared in the troublemaker's blank mask, manifesting itself as slight frown. It was followed by a pair of brown eyes opening to meet her own. “Why are you asking?”

She sounded genuinely confused. Jackie blinked. “Why wouldn't I? We're friends...right?” She asked, suddenly uncertain. They'd known each other since kindergarten, and hung out on numerous occasions. Sometimes she even let Janna hitch a ride on her skateboard when they were both running late for class. Had she been mistaken in her assumption that the two of them were friends? That would be...embarrassing, not to mention sad.

“Well...yeah.” Janna replied, swinging her feet off the desk and leaning forward slightly. One of her hands grabbed her phone and stuffed it into her jacket while the other scratched at the back of her head. “But we just...hang out. We don't usually do... _”_ she gestured between the two of them “ _this._ ”

Her immediate instinct was to dispute this, but then an uncomfortable feeling trickled down into her chest and stopped her cold.. Janna was right. They _hadn't_ done this sort of thing before. Sure, they were friendly toward each other. They spent time together. But they had never really moved _beyond_ that top, superficial layer of friendship. And until now, that had seemed fine. Normal. Sometimes that was all people wanted from each other. And...maybe that had been her. Maybe she'd subconsciously never wanted to take that extra step, happy with keeping Janna at arm's length. Keeping _everyone_ at arm's length.

 _Just like someone_ _else you know_. It was a bitter truth, one that burned to swallow. But it didn't have to stay that way. She could change. She _wanted_ to change. And it wasn't hard to realize who had inspired that desire.

_I like her enough to know that she deserves someone who wants to get to know her._

It was the first time she'd ever heard such a direct, sincere sentiment. And Marco had been telling the complete truth—the magic box had said as much. Afterword she'd said that she didn't know who she had a crush on anymore, and that had been true. But later that night, after a day of thinking things over, there hadn't been any doubt: she liked Marco. How could anyone _not_ like someone in the face of such open and honest affection? He wasn't like any of the other boys at school. He wasn't like any of the boys _anywhere_. And the thing that annoyed her the most was that he'd _always_ been like that, and she hadn't noticed. No one had.

 _Well_ , _no one except_......her thoughts froze, like a startled rabbit. Slowly, carefully, she stopped unraveling the thought she'd been about to think. This wasn't the time for that.

Shouldn't Marco's words apply just as well when it came to being someone's friend? She liked Janna. Didn't Janna deserve a friend who wanted to know her?

It was time for her to have her very own Marco moment. Time for her to take that extra step, to be open and honest and vulnerable.

“Well...” she said, riding the sudden wave of conviction “maybe we should.”

Janna stared at her for a moment, expression blank.

“What brought all this on?” she finally asked.

“I just...” she wracked her brain for the words, but they refused to come. “I don't know. It's hard to explain. Lots of things, I guess. I promise I'll find a way to say it all later. I just...need some time to sort it all out in my head first.”

“Fair enough.” Janna replied. She then held her hand out in front of her, spit on it, and presented it to Jackie. “Okay, why not. But I reserve the right to veto any girly frou frou stuff. And I'm running at the first mention of a makeover.”

Jackie stared at the offered appendage. Then, in a move that clearly surprised the other girl, she spit into her own hand before clasping Janna's tightly.

“Deal.”

It was wet, and warm, and gross, even for a self labeled tomboy like herself. But Jackie found she couldn't care less.

She was smiling for the first time in seven days.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A week ago she would have trembled from excitement at the thought of finally seeing the inside of the War Room. She'd been far too young to be allowed inside during the last formal monster uprising, but she had always tried to imagine what it must have been like. Back then her ferverous juvenile mind had conjured up amazing and wondrous images: huge maps with magical moving figurines, heavily armored soldiers debating tactics, terrifying giants made out of corn kernels...

Unfortunately, as was usually the case, reality was much more boring than her imagination.

"Colonel Giant, how goes the evacuation?" Her mother asked from the head of the table.

The man in question was nothing like a corn kernel giant. Short, thin, and old, arms visibly trembling as he braced them against the table and rose from his seat—it looked like so much as a fly landing on him would send him tumbling. This was a distinct possibility, as three flies were currently circling above his bald head like vultures awaiting their next meal.

One part of her father's misunderstood words from long ago rang true, however. Colonel Giant _was_ terrifying.

Just not in a way she liked.

"Currently on schedule, my Queen." He slowly got out, words periodically punctuated by a wheeze, or a sniffle, or a cough, or a sneeze, or...

It was driving her crazy. It had taken him three minutes to get those five words out.

"Very good. I want all of the citizens out by tomorrow afternoon." She said, voice brooking no argument. "Is your family really okay with allowing a portion of them to take shelter in Johansen territory, Dear?" She addressed the latter to her husband, standing beside her.

"Oh absolutely , Darling. They're positively _thrilled_ at the prospect they might be attacked. They've been raring for a good scuffle ever since those cowardly beargons flew away with their tails tucked between their legs..."

"I doubt it will come to that, but it is nonetheless comforting. The gentry are all ready en route to the Cloud Kingdom. As for the rest, we will have to make use of the old underground bunkers..."

"Has Lucitor responded to our request?" Spoke up a woman, sitting to the left of Colonel Giant.

"And what of the fish people?" A man across from her asked, tone laced with derision.

Her mother sent an icy glare at him. "While I cannot control what you say behind closed doors, while in my presence you _will_ refer to them by their proper name."

"My apologies, your highness." He said. He showed just enough remorse to look sorry for getting caught, but not enough to convince anyone he actually regretted his choice of words.

"The diplomat we sent to the Mermen was turned away with no reason given, although our spies have heard rumors that there's an internal power struggle going on between members of the Royal Family. As for the Underworld... the diplomat we sent there has yet to return." The Queen said. A grim silence settled over the room.

Then it was broken all at once.

"Perhaps we should send a scouting party?"

"Are you mad!? If Lucitor finds out that we sent Mewnian soldiers to spy on him--"

"We have to do _something_. If he's allied himself with Toffee—"

"—corn embargo—"

_"Ahem."_

Even she, who—truth be told—had started to slide down into her chair and nod off suddenly found herself wide awake and sitting ramrod straight at the clearing of her mother's throat. A tense silence filled the air, every single soul in the room devoting their complete attention to the Queen.

"I will deal with Lucitor. For now, focus on the evacuation. We will meet again tomorrow and discuss our next move...I now have other matters to attend to: you are all dismissed."

While none of the nobles went so far as to run out of the room, there was a notable sense of urgency in their exit. Even Colonel Giant shuffled out quickly, flies trailing behind him in a hurried procession.

Once the last of them had left and the door closed with a loud clank, her mother sagged in her seat and rubbed her temples with a sigh.

"Are you all right, my love?" Her father asked, eyes soft.

Her mother met his stare, mirroring its warmth. "I'm fine, River. Being in this room just exhausts me...so many dreadful memories..." She reached for his hand, which he readily took into his own, lacing their fingers together tightly.

Not all that long ago, such displays of affection would have grossed her out. It was only within the past year that her perception on such things had shifted. Sometimes people needed a hug, or a hand to hold. Even parents. It would be hypocritical of her to believe otherwise...she had lost count of the times she'd messed something up over the past year and been comforted by a hug, or even just a hand on her shoulder, or a plate of nachos...

"Star, what's wrong?"

She blinked, finding both of her parents looking at her worryingly.

“Um, nothing! I was just...thinking over what happened during the meeting.”

Her dad looked unconvinced, but her mom seemed pleased.

“I know that they haven't been as action packed as you probably hoped, but I'm proud of you for paying attention during them, Star. While I hope you'll never need to suffer through them during your own reign, it's good for you to experience them in case you do. I know you miss your friends. Taking this seriously despite that tells me you'll be a fine Queen.”

Praise from her mother was uncommon, which should have made her happy. But the truth was that her attentiveness during these meetings weren't from diligence. Rather, it was a distraction to keep her from thinking about...everything else. As such the praise felt more like a slap in the face. A reminder that, at her core, she would never be the princess her mother wanted.

“Thanks mom.” She said, trying her hardest to inject some cheerfulness into it. “So what's next on the agenda?”

Her mother frowned. “I'm afraid this has been but a small taste of the necessary evils a Queen must endure. Where we're going next will be...a significantly larger one.”

“What could be worse than a bunch of old nobles griping at each other?” She couldn't even begin to imagine.

“A bunch of old diplomats doing the same.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I thought! I became a first time homeowner at the end of March, and have been preoccupied with all of the responsibilities that come with such an undertaking. Luckily things are calming down, so updates should be a little more regular. Hopefully.
> 
> On a second note, I knew going in that this chapter would be hard to write. Jackie deserves to get some of the spotlight, and I really want to do her justice. Initially I had a completely different direction planned for her, but then she ran off and did her own thing without my intending it. I'd never really believed it whenever a writer said that before, but now I'm eating my own disbelief. It tastes vaguely of rice cakes. 
> 
> Next Time: Jackie and Janna talk, Marco deals with things by not dealing with them, and Star possibly meets some of the worst creatures alive--politicians.


End file.
